


Luv (sic)

by ChrisT69



Category: IDubbbzTV - Fandom, The Filthy Frank Show
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, I'll add more tags later, M/M, Multi, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, This kinda sucks, sort of canon divergence i guess, there's not much for this ship so i thought i'd add to the shit show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisT69/pseuds/ChrisT69
Summary: George knows he's fucking shit up by not telling people what's going on, but hey, at least he doesn't have to explain anything
Relationships: George "Joji" Miller/Original Character(s), Ian Carter/George "Joji" Miller, Ian Carter/Original Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Aurarian Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this

Max grunted as he threw his head back against the sofa, exhaustion and boredom enveloping him. 

‘Fuck’s sake, this is boooring,’ he groaned. Chad hummed in drunken agreement, taking another swig of beer as he did. Ian looked up from where he’d crouched down on the floor, table-tennis paddle in hand, camera aimed directly at his face. 

‘It was your fuckin’ idea, cunt!’ he replied. George, who’d been knelt in front of him, two snails in one hand and a possibly poisonous plant in the other, nodded. 

‘To be honest Max, I’m really fucking fed up with this.’ Max brought his head up from the back of the sofa to stare at the two.

‘Fine, it was shit anyway,’ he mumbled, unsteadily coming to stand up. Chad dropped the now empty can of beer to the floor, amongst a mess of others, and groaned. 

‘Fuck this shit, I’m goin’ to bed,’ he mumbled, moving to stand up. Ian shook his head, glancing at George. George just shrugged and stood.

‘Gonna go throw these bad boys out,’ he said, already walking to Max’s garden. Ian watched as all three blokes disappeared into their respective areas.

‘Night cunts!’ Max yelled, slamming his door shut behind him. Ian sighed and stood up, face scrunching as he stretched his limbs. He heard the back door shut and saw George come back, hands clear of foliage and shelled-creatures. 

‘How d’you wanna do this dude?’ Ian asked. 

‘I s’pose I could take the couch,’ George replied, shrugging nonchalantly. 

‘You sure?’ Ian asked. He knew how this went; George’d offer himself up for sleeping on the couch, Ian’d pretend to care that he’s sleeping on the couch and make sure that he’s okay with it, George’d say he’s fine, and both parties would go to bed drunk, tired and in pain. 

‘Yeah, it’s all good. As long as you take it tomorrow, though,’ George replied. Ian nodded. 

‘Yeah, sure.’ George nodded. 

‘G’night then,’ he said. 

‘Night,’ Ian replied, turning around and walking to the guest room. He closed the door behind him with a soft click and shuffled over to his bags to grab his phone and charger. Ian threw off his jeans and socks and climbed into bed, not bothering to change further. Leaning over to the bedside table, Ian plugged his charger and phone in, checking one last time for messages before turning it off. The room was bathed in black and Ian could barely make out the floor from the ceiling. He sighed before turning on his side foetal-style and pulling up the covers over his shoulders, trying to get comfortable. 

He was on the edge of sleep when a knock at the bedroom door sluggishly brought him back to consciousness. He ignored it, it’s probably Chad sleep-walking again, until it came again. Ian groaned and rolled over onto his back before propping himself up on his elbows. 

‘Chad wake up and fuck off,’ he mumbled. The door opened and Ian had to squint to see who it was. Well, it wasn’t not Chad, not fuckin’ fat enough to be him, and the hair wasn’t retarded enough to be Max’s. 

‘George?’ Ian asked. 

‘Uh yeah,’ came the reply. Ian waited for an explanation but didn’t receive one. 

‘Wanna tell me why you’re here?’ Ian tried. 

‘The couch is covered in beer and it smells like shit. Plus, Chad’s left a dent in the sofa that’s so fucking uncomfortable,’ George slurred. He’d been drinking a bit since Ian went to bed, maybe about an hour ago. ‘So I was thinking I could crash on the floor here?’ Ian stared at George, eyes finally becoming accustomed to the darkness of the room; he’s already holding the pillow and quilt Max’d given him under his arms. George continued.

‘Plus, Chad snores so fuckin’ loud and Max’s watching porn and I just can’t be arsed to do anything about it.’

‘Yeah whatever dude, just don’t make too much noise,’ Ian mumbled, annoyed, collapsing back onto the soft mattress. 

‘Yeah okay,’ George replied before dumping the bedding onto the laminate flooring with a thump. Ian shimmied further under the covers of the bed, trying to get back to sleep. 

The bed’s comfy and Ian soon began to drift off again, warm and relatively calm. That’s until there came a harsh, albeit quiet, curse from the man on the floor. Ian gritted his teeth. 

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he mumbled, dreary. ‘The fuck are you doing?’ 

‘Shitty laminate floor, hurts,’ George grunted, shuffling around. Ian heard the man’s body scrape on the floor. He buried his face in the soft pillow. 

‘Well go sleep on the couch then,’ he said, voice muffled. 

‘It’s fucking disgusting on that thing and I swear to fuck Max’s jizzed on it at some point.’ Ian almost growled at George’s stubbornness.

‘Well, I dunno what to suggest then. Just make a fuckin’ decision and do it quietly,’ he sighed. He heard George curse again before standing up and pathetically kicking the bedding on the floor. Ian suddenly felt the bed dip beside him. 

‘The fuck?’ he groaned, turning over to see George shuffle in next to him. 

‘I’m doing it quietly,’ George whispered, avoiding the question, putting his index finger to his lips as he sinks into the mattress beneath him. 

‘Yeah okay I see that, but can’t you go somewhere else?’ Ian asked. George ignored him and rolled over to face Ian. Ian huffed and frowned at him. 

‘Dude, what the fuck are you doing?’ he tried again. 

‘Trying to get comfy,’ George replied, tugging at the bed covers. 

‘You’re such a fucking faggot,’ Ian said. He wasn’t patient enough for this shit, it was fucking early in the morning and they’d had shit to do the next day. George shrugged, staring at Ian. Ian huffed again and turned away from the other man. He felt a tug at the duvet again and kicked George half-heartedly. 

‘Ow! The fuck was that for?’ he hissed. 

‘Stop pulling at the fucking covers, you ass,’ Ian snarled back. George sat up and for one blissful second, Ian thought that he’d given up and was going to fuck off, but no. George crawled to the end of the bed and retrieved his discarded quilt. Bringing it to cover himself, he gently shoved Ian out of the way. 

‘Happy?’ he asked. Ian grunted and shuffled further away from George. 

‘If you touch me, I’ll fuckin’ cut you,’ Ian snarled. George scoffed and Ian felt him move slightly. 

‘Wasn’t plannin’ on it,’ George replied. Ian hoped George wasn’t one of those annoying cunts who’d kick you out of the way and fucking starfish themseleves on the bed. He’d had a girlfriend like that and it was a fucking nightmare. Any time they’d fuck and fall asleep, the bitch would constantly fucking hit him. Whether she was doing it on purpose, Ian would never know. What he did know was that bitches who kick in their sleep are annoying motherfuckers. 

Ian tried to move further away from George (who he was pretty sure was still awake), but realised that he’s on the edge of the shitty guest bed (the bed  _ was _ nice, but that was before George decided to drag his jap ass into it). Ian turned over and came face-to-face with George’s back, a mere couple of inches away from his face. Ian groaned and poked George in the back. George hummed in reply. 

‘Move over, cunt, I’ve got no room,’ Ian hissed. George turned round to face him, expression unreadable. 

‘Yeah fine,’ he murmured. Ian got the distant feeling that something was off but he let the idea go. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with shit when he’s that tired. George, still facing Ian, shuffled backwards, allowing Ian more room. Ian turned back around, trying his best to ignore George. He just wished the cunt could’ve found somewhere else to sleep and dragged his ass out of his room. Ian considered just shoving him away but he knew it probably wouldn’t end well. Groaning at his shite luck, Ian tried to will himself to sleep.


	2. All That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, i don't really like this one. I went through, i shit you not, five different versions of this chapter and i hated them all, i just feel that this one takes it in the direction i'm hoping to go in. It just feels kinda lacklustre, i guess? At least that's how it comes across to me. I also decided to write this shit in the past tense because it felt better that way, so i'm genuinely sorry for the shift in tense, i know it's probably kinda annoying. Anyway, i hope you enjoy it far more than i do lol

Ian threw himself onto the sofa and sprawled out on it, his long limbs taking up every little fucking inch of space. George glanced at him, expressionless, as he came into the living room and sat on the floor in front of the couch. Chad followed, then so did Max.

‘Skinny cunt’s taken the couch,’ Chad groaned, turning to look at Max.

‘Just fuckin sit on him then,’ Max said, hand around a mug of coffee. Ian’s eyes widened and he scrambled to the other end of the sofa to avoid getting fucking suffocated.

‘Pussy,’ Chad mumbled, sitting next to Ian. Max stared at the two.

‘Where the fuck am I supposed to sit, then?’ he asked. Ian shrugged, relaxing slightly, safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t gonna be squashed.

‘I don’t fuckin know, sit on the floor next to George.’ Max looked down at the man in question who, in turn, looked up at him, grim-ass smile pasted on his lips. Max smirked at him but didn’t relent.

‘My fuckin house, move,’ he said, kicking Ian in the shins. Ian hissed in pain and glared at Max who raised the fist that wasn’t gripping coffee, a silent threat to the taller man.

‘Fucking fine, you cunt, I’ll move,’ Ian said as he slipped off the sofa and onto the floor next to George, who had the courtesy to move out of his way. Ian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and saw George close his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before re-opening them. He ignored it.

‘So cunts, what we gonna watch?’ Max asked, digging up the remote from between the sofa cushions and flicking the TV on. George shrugged.

‘Just see what shit horror’s on, we’ll watch that,’ Ian suggested, leaning over to the coffee table where Chad’d put the six-pack, grabbing himself a can and tossing one to him and George. Chad dropped his and cursed as it hit his foot.

‘Thanks faggot,’ George chukled as he cracked his can open. Ian smirked. They hadn’t spoken about whatever the fuck George’d been playing at last night and Ian knew that they didn’t have to; it was a freak occurrence that nobody needed to know about. There was tension between them, sure, but Ian still didn’t know the fucker too well and them having to share a bed just kinda threw a spanner in the works. Ian watched as George took a sip from his beer to stop the froth from overflowing. Maxed exclaimed as he found something to watch, clearly taking Ian’s suggestion of a horror.

‘What the actual fuck are we watching?’ Max slurred. They’d been watching the horror channel for about four hours and at this point the films just seemed to blend together; shitty acting combined with wank special effects made for sound background noise as the three men hurled insults at each other (as Chad would testify if he was awake. And involved in the insult-hurling. And actually cared).

‘We’re watching-’ Ian frowned at himself, thinking. There was a pause. ‘Actually, I’ve got no fuckin clue what we’re watchin.’ George stifled a laugh. It’d gotten to that time in the evening where everything seemed like a well-planned, fully thought-out joke when it was, in fact, bullshit. Max snickered and pressed the info button on the remote.

‘Wha-’ he squinted, leaning forward to try and see the TV. ‘What does that say, cunt?’ he asked. George shrugged, still laughing slightly, and reached for another can of beer Max’d brought in a few minutes ago.

‘I can’t see faggot, took my glasses off,’ Ian muttered. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and yawned. 

‘Fuck, I’m tired,’ he mumbled, stretching his arms above his head. Max nodded and yawned before turning the TV off.

‘Yeah, me too, I’m fucking off,’ he said, tripping over the empty McDonald’s packages and beer cans as he disappeared into his room. Ian turned to look at Chad, who’d fallen asleep on the couch. Well fuck him, then. He then turned his attention to George, who was downing the can of beer he’d had in his hand.

‘Uh, Chad’s taken the-’

‘I know,’ George replied, throwing the beer can at Chad’s unconscious form. He didn’t move. Ian cleared his throat and looked at George.

‘Oh, if you’re worried about me raping you, then don’t be. I’m not fuckin tired, really,’ George said, fumbling around in his pocket for his cigarettes. Ian blinked.

‘O-kay then’ he said. George’s demeanour had changed drastically from the happy-go-lucky fucker Ian’d seen a moment ago. He didn’t dwell on it though and he stood up from his cross-legged position on the floor. To be honest, he was just happy to have his own bed, he wasn’t really fussed with George. He was a miserable fucker.

‘G’night then faggot,’ Ian said, walking off to the guest room. George lit his cigarette and took a drag.

‘Night cunt.’

The sound of whirring was what woke Ian up from a relatively peaceful sleep, all things considered. He opened his eyes, crusted from sleep, and slowly looked around his room.

‘The fuck-?’ he murmured, bringing himself to sit up. Ian grabbed his phone and checked the time; five twenty-two. Who in the ass would be doing shit at-

Ah.

George.

Groaning, Ian grabbed his joggers from where he’d tossed them on the floor and pulled on a t-shirt before walking out of his room.

Sure enough, it was George, standing in the kitchen, smacking the coffee machine.

‘Where the fuck’s that motherfucking button?’ he hissed, hands fumbling around the various buttons on the machine. 

‘Havin trouble there, coin-slot eyes?’ Ian chuckled. George visibly jumped and spun around to face Ian, hand over his heart.

‘Fucking _hell_ , you scared the shit out of me,’ he huffed. Ian chuckled, arms folded, and smirked. George looked at him, eyes wide.

‘What you doing up this early?’ he asked, partly to fill the growing silence between them. George dropped his hand from his chest and let it rest at his side, shrugging.

‘Haven’t been to sleep yet,’ he said, turning back to the coffee machine to grab his drink. Ian blinked. Max’d mentioned George having trouble sleeping but Ian guessed he hadn’t really processed it til now. Looking at him, Ian could see the prominent bags under George’s eyes. They’d been one of the main features of Filthy Frank, but now, seeing them on George, just plain George, it was like seeing something real. Like seeing an actor out of costume.

‘Ah right,’ Ian said. What else was there to say? George hummed, seemingly knowing Ian’s predicament, and turned back around to him, one of Max’s chipped coffee mugs in his hands.

‘You get used to it after a while,’ he said. Ian wanted to say something more to that, but he remembered that he barely knew the guy so he laid off. George took a sip of his coffee, flinching slightly at the temperature. Ian hummed to cover up the silence between them. He supposed he should go back to bed, it was so fucking early and he knew the others wouldn’t be up for at least another five hours. Ian nodded at George and turned to go back to his room.

‘Ian,’ George said. Ian stopped walking and turned around to face him, frowning slightly.

‘Yeah?’ he replied. George sighed and looked away, anywhere but Ian.

‘Look, don’t tell Max I was up this early, aight?’ 

‘Why-’

‘Just fuckin don’t okay,’ George said, raising his voice sightly, eyes darting up to Ian’s. Ian would’ve shrunk away had he not had the upper hand. Well, he thought he had the upper hand. He probably didn’t. Fuck knows.

‘Fuckin whatever dude, I don’t give a shit,’ he muttered and walked back to his guest room, leaving George in the kitchen on his own. He didn’t care about the cunt. And why should he keep a secret for George in the first place? None of his fucking business what went down with him and Max. Ian sighed and climbed back into the guest bed, grabbing his phone. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now the cunt had woken him up.

When Ian woke up for the second time, he felt better. He’d jerked off and fallen asleep and the confrontation with George had almost faded away. He stood up and grabbed some clothes out of his duffle on the floor at the foot of his bed and threw them on before walking out of his room and into the kitchen to grab something to eat. 

‘George, what the fuck have I told you?’ Ian stopped a few feet away from the kitchen and looked up from his phone. Max’s voice was quiet but harsh and even Ian felt attacked at the tone of it. 

‘Yeah I know okay? I fucking know,’ George replied, voice monotonous. Ian heard Max sigh, imagined him shaking his head at George. He heard someone drop something into the sink.

‘But you don’t fucking know, do you?’ Max said, his voice raising slightly. ‘You don’t fucking know at all.’

‘Well fuck me, I’m sorry _Max_ ,’ came George’s reply, snarky and sarcastic. Ian shuffled a little to hear better.

‘Look, I just don’t want you to get like you used to be, okay? I just-’ Max sighed. ‘Please George.’ There was silence and Ian took the opportunity to walk into the kitchen, eyes fixed on his phone as if he hadn’t just heard their fucking strange-ass conversation. 

‘Morning Ian,’ Max said, stepping away from George slightly. Ian looked up from his phone as George fucked off, tugging his hat further down his head.

‘Morning cunt,’ Ian replied, forcing a smile at Max. He looked tired as he ran his hand through his hair.

‘You want a coffee or some shit?’ Max offered. Ian nodded and hopped up on the counter, checking his phone for any emails he could’ve missed. The coffee machine began to whirr and Ian immediately thought of the confrontation between him and George. He decided it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. As far as he was concerned, the conversation had never happened. Besides, he really didn’t want to fucking think about George. Ian thanked Max as he’s handed the coffee.

‘Got any plans for shit today?’ Ian asked. Max shrugged, picking up his half-eaten toast and taking a bite.

‘Dunno really. Chad said he had an idea, but I’ve got no fucking clue.’ Ian nodded.

‘Chad still asleep?’

‘Fuck if I know. Fat cunt stays in bed for fucking ages,’ Max answered, though there was no malice behind it. Ian chuckled.

‘I’m gonna go and take a shower, help yourself to shit but leave the fucking Oreos, aight?’ Max said, shoving the rest of the toast into his mouth and downing his coffee before walking off to the bathroom. Ian sighed and hopped off the counter. He supposed he should try and edit some shit before they work on other stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully i'll be able to get chapters out every sunday. I can't promise anything cos my schedule is all fucky, but i'm gonna try.


	3. Typical Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a lot better about this chapter, so i hope it's a whole lot more substantial than the last one

‘Alright, call me when you leave, okay? Look, I can’t get to you today cos I haven’t booked any flights yet- well how the  _ fuck  _ was I supposed to know this was gonna happen? Look, I’ll get there as soon as I fucking can, okay? Just let me know when you’re gone and I’ll come over. Aight. Bye.’ George dropped the phone into his lap and ran a hand down his face.

‘What was that about?’ Ian asked. George sighed and looked at him.

‘Flatmate’s in deep shit so I gotta go back as soon as,’ he explained vaguely. He looked fucking exhausted and Ian wondered just how much sleep he actually got. Maybe he didn’t get any, Ian didn’t fucking know. George stood up and walked over to his duffle in the corner of the living room, unzipping it and rifling through the shit he had in there.

‘You gonna pack now?’ Ian asked. George nodded and began searching the living room for his stuff. 

‘You gonna tell Max?’

‘Of course I’m gonna fucking tell Max, I’m not just gonna leave without a fucking explanation, am I?’ George replied, eyeing Ian like he was some sort of retard. Ian shrugged.

‘Thought that was your style,’ he replied. George scoffed and rolled his eyes, returning to the task at hand.

‘I haven’t got a fucking style,’ he mumbled. Ian barely caught the words that left the other man’s lips. 

‘I thought the whole “mysterious Japanese man” spiel was your style?’

‘Yeah? Well you fucking thought wrong,’ George muttered. He grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and tossed it into the bag along with his phone and laptop charger. George leaned over to the coffee table to grab his sunglasses. He shoved those into the bag as well.

‘Surely you’re not actually as mysterious as you play up to be,’ Ian said. George huffed.

‘Not my fucking fault you think that,’ he replied, slamming his duffle down onto the coffee tables as he searched for other shit he’d left around the room. Ian shrugged again.

‘Still, it’s got to be an act, right? You can’t really be like that.’ George turned around to face Ian, eyes tired but frustrated.

‘Dude, just shut the fuck up.’ Ian put his hands up in surrender.

‘Hey, I’m just asking man,’ he said. George bit the inside of his cheek irritably.

‘Well fucking don’t,’ he huffed, walking to the duffle and searching through it. Ian toed George’s laptop towards him and George snatched it up, ignoring Ian.

‘D’you know when Max’s back?’ George asked, zipping up the bag after stuffing his laptop into it. Ian shook his head.

‘No, didn’t say. I’d guess about another hour or something,’ he answered. George huffed and came to sit down on the sofa, pulling his phone out his jogger pocket.

‘Why’d you need to leave so quick, we’ve got like another week and a half to record shit,’ Ian said.

‘Told you, flatmate’s in some shit so I need to take care of the place.’ Ian nodded. He knew that he’d not get any more information from George when he was this pissy so he just gave up fucking trying. Tended to happen a lot with him.

‘Earliest flight is at five am tomorrow,’ George said, turning his phone off and pulling his pack of cigarettes out his pocket.

‘You booked it?’ Ian asked. George looked at him as he lit the cig.

‘No, I’m gonna wait until next week.’ Ian looked at him blankly as George blew smoke into the air. A moment of silence passed.

‘Yes, of course I fucking booked it, Ian,’ George replied. ‘D’you really take everything that fucking literally?’ Ian ignored him and picked up the remote from where Max’d thrown it earlier and switched the TV.

Ian was right, Max did arrive about an hour and a half later, several take-away bags in hands. He struggled through the door and into the living room, almost dropping everything.

‘Alright cunts,’ he greeted. Ian glanced at George out the corner of his eye but George was looking at his phone.

‘Hey Max,’ he replied. There was a beat of silence. George piped up

‘Max, d’you mind driving me to the airport tomorrow morning?’ he asked, eyes not leaving the screen of his phone. Max frowned, looked at Ian. Ian shrugged.

‘I thought you weren’t leaving for another week or some shit,’ he said, unpacking the take-away on the coffee table after shoving George’s duffle to the floor.

‘Yeah but some shit came up at the apartment and I have to go back soon as,’ he replied, finally looking up from his phone to Max. 

‘Uh, yeah, sure. What time tomorrow morning?’ 

‘Flight leaves at five,’ George said. Max’s eyes widened slightly.

‘ _ Five _ ?’

‘Yeah. I needed to get back as soon as so I booked the earliest flight.’ Max sighed, handing Ian his food, eyes remaining on George. 

‘Aight fine. How much time d’you need to pack tomorrow?’

‘Done it already.’ Max chuckled.

‘Wow, this shit must be really fuckin important if you’re this organised.’ George said nothing.

‘Where’s fat cunt?’ Max said, turning his attention to Ian after he’d finished giving out the food. Ian took a bite out of his burger and chased it down with sprite.

‘In his room still, think he’s still asleep,’ he said. Max rolled his eyes.

‘Chad! Get your fat ass up, I’ve got your food!’ Max yelled.

‘Fuck off, cunt,’ came the muffled reply. Max shook his head and picked up the bag that held Chad’s food, walking to his room. There was a muffled argument before Max reappeared, bagless.

‘Took the food but I think the cunt was watching porn,’ Max said, grimacing slightly. 

‘Thanks for that lovely fucking image, Max,’ George said, a sllight chuckle in his voice. Max smirked at him before positioning himself between Ian and George on the sofa.

‘George, you should really try and get some sleep,’ Max said once they’d all eaten. George rolled his eyes at him and reached over to the coffee table to grab his drink.

‘Yeah, alright dude.’ Max looked at Ian, an almost helpless expression plastered on his face. Ian cleared his throat and looked at George, leaning over Max slightly to see him properly.

‘You can take the guest bed, I’m not that fucked to be honest,’ he said. George looked at him, hesitant.

‘Yeah, okay.’ He paused. ‘Thanks dude.’ There was a moment of silence.

‘I s’pose it’s the least you can do,’ George said, chuckling slightly. Ian hummed. He wanted to say something to that, wanted to retaliate with a snarky comment about George being a whiny little bitch or some shit like that, but Max gave him a look that just read “don’t you fucking dare” so Ian (reluctantly) backed down.

‘I s’pose I should change the sheets,’ Max said, standing up.

‘Nah, don’t bother,’ George said, looking up at him. Max frowned slightly.

‘You sure?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s fine. I’m only gonna be in it for a few hours so what’s the point?’ he replied. Max shrugged and sat back down.

‘Alright man, your call.’ Ian supposed  _ he _ could change the sheets when George’d left. That way, he’d get clean sheets and Max wouldn’t have to do two lots of washing (not that Max  _ would _ do the washing, it nearly always ended up with Ian doing it, but still). George checked the time.

‘S’pose I should be off to bed then,’ he said. Max looked at him.

‘Time?’

‘Twelve twenty-ish.’ Max nodded, coming to stand up.

‘Guess if I’m driving, I should get some sleep too,’ he said. Ian looked at the two from his position on the sofa.

‘I may as well sort the couch out, then,’ he sighed and grabbed the remote to turn the TV off, moving the food containers out of his way and gathering the bedding from under the couch. Max bid Ian goodnight and turned off the living room lights. George said nothing.

When Ian woke up the next morning, both Max and George were gone already. Chad was in the kitchen, grabbing a beer and a slice of toast. Ian greeted him and explained what’d gone down when Chad was, quite rightly, confused as to where his friends had fucked off to. 

‘Ah right okay,’ he said to Ian, taking a bite of toast. Ian nodded and rubbed a hand over his face. Chad swallowed a mouthful of beer.

‘You alright there mate?’ he asked, eyeing Ian. Ian nodded half-heartedly.

‘Yeah, it’s just that the couch is so fucking uncomfortable,’ he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘And I got barely any fucking sleep.’ Chad nodded.

‘Nice of you to give up the bed,’ he said. Ian shrugged. ‘Bit gay though.’ Both guys chuckled.

‘So how long you gonna be staying for now George’s gone?’ Chad asked, taking another bite of toast.

‘I guess the time I have left?’ Ian began. ‘I mean, George fucking off did mess up some of the shit we’d had planned, but we could just make it up. Bluff our way through,’ Chad nodded.

‘Good plan.’ Ian smiled at him. For how much of a dick he was, Chad wasn’t a half-bad guy. Ian walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Mountain Dew Max’d bought the other day. 

‘I’m off to have a shower before Max comes back. The cunt’ll probably wanna get cleaned up or some gay shit,’ Chad said. He polished off the rest of his beer and left the half-eaten toast on the kitchen counter as he walked off into the bathroom, leaving Ian on his own. Ian sighed and walked to the living room to get changed into fresh clothes.

When Max came back, he looked fucking exhausted; his skin looked clammy and pale and his hair was greasy, sticking to his face. Ian looked up at him from the TV and smiled.

‘Jap cunt alright?’ he asked, chuckling slightly. Max nodded and collapsed onto the sofa next to Ian.

‘Sleep well bitch?’ came the muffled question from Max. Ian sighed.

‘Fuck no cunt, the fucking thing is so uncomfortable,’ Ian replied. He heard Max chuckle as he lifted himself up to sit properly.

‘Guess you know how George feels, huh?’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Ian answered. He thought for a moment. ‘He doesn’t sleep that much, does he?’ Max looked at him blankly.

‘Not really. He just doesn’t get tired, I guess.’ Max shrugged nonchalantly. Ian knew there was more to it than that; he’d heard the argument between Max and George. Admittedly, he didn’t know for certain what their argument was about, but the way George’d begged Ian not to tell Max he hadn’t slept may’ve had something to do with it. Ian nodded at Max.

‘Yeah, I mean the guy drinks way too much fucking coffee,’ Ian said, trying to lighten the mood. Max chuckled but Ian could see that he was on edge.

‘Yeah but still. Better than beer,’ Max commented. Ian laughed and nodded.

‘Hell yeah man.’ Max grinned.

‘Where’s Chad?’ he asked. Ian gestured vaguely to the bathroom.

‘Shower.’ Max rolled his eyes.

‘Cunt knew I’d wanna clean up,’ he muttered, though there was no vitriol behind the statement.

‘You make it sound like you’ve just had an orgy,’ Ian laughed. Max feigned shock, bringing his hand up to his heart.

‘How’d you know?’ he gasped. 

‘God, you’re so fucking gay!’ Ian laughed, grinning at Max. Max grinned back before standing up.

‘I’m gonna go yell at fat cunt until he fucks off out the bathroom,’ he chuckled. Ian nodded, grin still present.

‘Alright, good luck,’ he said, saluting Max. Max rolled his eyes and laughed before walking off. Ian was left alone.


	4. Alien Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one, but the next chapter should be up either today or some time tomorrow, possibly Tuesday at latest. I just felt like this chapter ended naturally here, y'know? The next one'll be longer though, I swear

‘C’mon dude, this fucking  _ sucks _ ,’ Max huffed, placing down another card. Chad shrugged and placed down his, a small smile tugging at his lips when he picked up the two cards and put them at the back of his deck.

‘Got any better ideas, cunt?’ he said. Max groaned and placed down another card, fiddling in his back pocket for his cigarettes.

‘No, but still. Doesn’t change the fact it  _ fucking sucks _ .’ Max pushed the cigs over to Chad, who took one and lit it before putting down his card. Max took off his cap and brushed his hair out of the way before replacing it and picking up the two cards on the table. Chad puffed out smoke from the side of his mouth as he placed another card down. 

‘Your phone’s ringing,’ he said. Max straightened from his slouch and stood up from the table, dropping his cards down onto it and walking to the kitchen.

‘Yo,’ he said.

‘Uh hey Max.’

‘Wassup Ian?’ Max asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ian cleared his throat.

‘I, uh, I kinda need a place to stay for a while.’ Max frowned and blew the smoke from his lips.

‘What’s happened?’

‘I was um, I was burgled and I haven’t paid my rent so the landlord’s kicking me out,’ Ian replied, voice crackling over the receiver. Max’s eyes widened and he stubbed his cigarette out on the counter.

‘Shiiit man,’ he said. Ian hummed.

‘And fuck dude, I’ve lost my job. I got a call a few hours ago that was really fucking vague but, to cut a long fucking story short, I’ve lost my fucking job.’

‘At the seven-eleven?’

‘Yeah, there.’ There was a beat of silence.

‘So I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while?’ Ian said. Max could hear the hesitation in his voice. He couldn’t remember the last time Ian’d sounded this way, or if he even had, for that matter.

‘Ian, fuck mate, I’m really fucking sorry, but Chad’s place is being refurbished and I’ve got my cousins over for a while,’ Max replied. He heard Ian sigh and he cringed at how harsh he’d sounded.

‘I-it’s okay dude, I’ll find somewhere,’ Ian mumbled. 

‘Haven’t you got like, family or some shit?’ Max asked. Ian barked a laugh, harsh and humourless. 

‘Fuck no Max, you know what they’re like.’ 

‘Yeah. Fuck Ian, I’m really sorry, I’m not just saying that, I’m really fucking sorry.’ 

‘It’s not your fault dude,’ Ian replied, defeated. 

‘What about a hotel?’ Max suggested.

‘Can’t man, I’ve got jack shit.’

‘Fuck, yeah, sorry dude.’

‘What about George?’ Ian asked.

‘I dunno Ian,’ Max replied uneasily. 

‘I know I haven’t known him for long but it’s worth a try, right?’

‘I mean, yeah, but you need to consider-’

‘I’m just gonna call him and see how it goes.’

‘But Ian-’

‘It’s fine Max, if I can’t stay there I’ll see if my ex has a place for me to crash,’ Ian said, cutting Max off mid-sentence. Max sighed.

‘Aight Ian. Good luck man.’

‘Thanks dude, I’ll call you back in a few.’ With that, Ian hung up. Max slowly brought his phone from his ear and sighed, staring down at it. Chad walked in and past him to the fridge, opening it and bringing out a beer.

‘Max, you want one?’ he asked. Max looked up and nodded before putting his phone down onto the counter. He thanked Chad and cracked open the can, quickly chasing the alcohol.

‘I won, by the way,’ Chad said. Max raised an eyebrow at him.

‘What?’

‘I won.’

‘In what?’

‘Cards.’

‘You mean you kept playing when I took that call?’

‘Yeah, and I won.’ Max laughed.

‘Fuck’s sake, Chad.’ Chad grinned and brought the can to his lips.

‘I know, I’m amazing, aren’t I?’ he said before taking a sip of beer. 

‘Yeah, that’s one fucking word for it,’ Max replied


	5. Drive Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this hasn't been beta-ed so i'm sorry bout that. hope you like it anyway

Ian’s hand shook slightly as he clicked the contact labelled “frank”. George’d insisted that Ian put his contact down as Frank when they’d first met, making damn sure it was all lowercase, the fucking jap. Ian took a deep breath as the phone rang, focusing on his suitcases in the hallway. Finally, someone picked up.

‘Ian?’

‘George, hi,’ Ian said, changing hands of his phone.

‘You good?’

‘Uh, no.’ Ian heard George clear his throat and he bit his lip slightly.

‘Sooo, what’s up then?’ George asked. 

‘I’m just gonna be straight with you, I really need a place to stay. I’ve been kicked out, burgled and I’ve lost my fucking job and you’re like, my last resort,’ Ian explained. He could hear the fucking _desperation_ in his voice and he wondered what George thought of him, the gay little retard coming to the mysterious Japanese man for help. George chuckled over the receiver and for a moment Ian felt really fucking pissed.

‘Geez man, sounds like something out of some shitty anime,’ George mused. Ian grit his teeth.

‘Oh yeah, it’s really fucking funny, George,’ Ian mumbled, pinching his brow. George’s laughter died and he cleared his throat.

‘But uh, you need a place to stay, right?’

‘Yeah, that’s why I called.’ Ian swallowed thickly.

‘Right okay, well um...like I said, my flatmate was in some shit but that also means he’s gone. The rest of ‘em had to go with him for uh, _reasons_ , so I mean I guess you could come stay for a few. Just like, the only problem is we don’t know each other really well but I guess that doesn’t matter,’ George said. Ian let out a sigh and dragged his hand down his face.

‘Thanks dude, thanks so fucking much,’ he said. George chuckled again.

‘How long d’you reckon you’ll need to stay for?’ George asked. 

‘Uh, I really don’t fucking know to be honest,’ Ian replied, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled with the lock of his front door. George hummed.

‘Aight,’ he said. ‘You gonna bring all your shit here or? ‘cause we have like no fucking room as it is.’

‘No, god no, I’ve got a storage unit to put most of my stuff in, I’ll just bring the shit I need,’ Ian answered, dragging his bags out of the flat and onto the landing, kicking some of his shit out the way as he put his key into the lock.

‘Ah, right,’ George said. Ian heard him breathe in deeply as he took one last look at his flat. ‘Well aight then, when d’you think you’ll be here?’ Ian took the phone from his ear and checked the time.

‘Uh, maybe around um,’ Ian squinted at the time on his phone, trying to remember how long it’d take to get to the airport, how long the flight’d take and how long the ride to George’s place would be. He’d calculated it all earlier, but he wasn’t expecting George to actually let him stay.

‘I’m not sure dude. Maybe around five-ish tomorrow morning?’ he replied. George hummed on the other end of the line.

‘Aight. I’ll give you the directions n shit when you’re on your way.’

‘Sounds good. Thanks man,’ Ian replied, shouldering on his backpack and shoving his keys into his pocket.

‘It’s fine dude. I’ll see you later then, yeah?’

‘Yeah, see you.’ George hung up and Ian put his phone into his back pocket and began hauling his stuff along the corridor to the lift. If he was quick, he’d be able to make it to the storage unit before midnight.

‘Who’s name is it in?’

‘Uh, Carter. Ian, Ian Carter. Thanks.’ Ian smiled weakly at the receptionist as she typed his name into their records. He’d made it in pretty reasonable time, all things considered. Now all he had to do was make sure he didn’t miss his flight.

The receptionist handed Ian the key to his storage unit and Ian thanked her before dragging his stuff down the winding corridors of the establishment. When he finally reached it, Ian dropped his bags to the floor and opened it up. He vaguely knew which bags he had to take to George’s place but he checked through them regardless, only packing shit he _knew_ he was gonna need like cameras, clothes, his own bedding, shit like that. Once he was done, Ian locked back up and carried his remaining bags with him out of the establishment to hail a taxi to the airport. Surprisingly, he was doing well for time.

Ian texted George to tell him he was almost on the plane and George just responded with a thumbs up. He also called Max to update him on the situation and Max told him Chad fell asleep on the couch while watching porn on his laptop and Ian laughed because he was actually really fucking worried about going to see George. Max made sure he was okay and Ian told him he was and so Max let him get back to his flight. So Ian stood there, waiting for his flight and wondering how in the absolute _fuck_ he was gonna support himself. 

The flight was tedious, filled with wailing toddlers and angry businessmen who couldn’t afford first-class, but Ian made it and was soon on his way to George’s flat. He’d given Ian the directions and told him to watch his back as he made his way to the flat. Ian told him he’d be there around seven-ish, nine at latest as he needed to grab something to eat, and George said he’d be waiting for him in the flat. The taxi-driver gave Ian a look when he told him where he wanted to go, but said nothing. Ian was grateful for a moment of quiet.

Once he got to the apartment, Ian realised why George told him to watch it. To say the place was dodgy would be a massive fucking understatement. George told Ian not to touch the banister of the staircase, no matter fucking _what_ becuase people put needles in them. Ian didn’t even want to know why so he didn’t bother asking, just took George’s advice and didn’t touch anything. He was even dubious about pressing the buttons in the lift out of some irrational fear that something would fucking electrocute him or some shit. Finally, Ian reached George’s flat and knocked, straightening himself. Footsteps shuffled around for a moment before multiple locks were undone and the door opened, revealing George, clad in worn Adidas joggers, a Vans hoodie and a pair of flip-flops. Ian suddenly felt stupid and self-conscious with what he was wearing; a jumper and skinny jeans. He felt...out of place, to say the very fucking least.

‘Yo,’ George said, leaning against the doorframe.

‘Yo,’ Ian replied. 

‘You uh, need help with your bags or?’ George asked, waving a pale hand in the direction of Ian’s luggage.

‘Oh um, yeah if you wouldn’t mind,’ Ian replied. ‘Thanks.’ George shrugged and picked up a duffle and a backpack from the floor and walked back inside the flat, dumping the bags onto the sofa in the living room. Ian hauled his two suitcases inside, nearly tripping on the clothes and various CDs and tapes strewn about the place. 

‘Thanks for letting me stay, dude,’ Ian said once he’d put his stuff on the floor. George shrugged and dropped onto the sofa, reaching for an open bottle of beer on the coffee table littered with take-out boxes and bringing it to his lips.

‘It’s fine, I know you would’ve done the same for me,’ he replied. Ian blinked before nodding, awkwardly standing next to the sofa, unsure as to where he should sit.

‘Uh, yeah. Yeah, no of course,’ he said, chuckling uncomfortably. Truth is, if the shoe was on the other foot, the most likely outcome for George would be homelessness. Ian swallowed down the harsh wave of guilt and cleared his throat. George looked up at him from his place on the couch and raised an eyebrow.

‘So you gonna sit down or you just gonna stand in the middle of my living room like a fucking idiot?’ he laughed. 

‘What-? Oh yeah, sorry.’ Ian moved his bag out of the way and sat next at the other end of the couch to George. George took another sip of beer before turning to Ian.

‘You alright? You seem really on fucking edge, dude.’ Ian blinked at him. If he was being honest, he was really starting to regret his decision to stay with George in his poor excuse for a flat. He wished he’d just gone to his ex to see if she had a spare room for him to stay in. Anything to get away from this place.

‘Uh, I’m just a bit shaken up from all the shit that’s happened, I guess,’ Ian mumbled. George nodded and shrugged. 

‘Understandable,’ he said, polishing off the beer and dropping it to the floor. ‘What happened, anyway?’ Ian sucked in a deep breath and stared at his hands.

‘Well, the first thing that happened was that I got burgled. I know it wasn’t nearly as bad as some people’ve had it, but it was still fucking awful. Some of my cameras got taken, my wallet was taken and so was my laptop. I’ve still got some stuff but it’s all really old shit that I used back in like 2013 so it’s fucking awful.’ Ian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring George’s, quite frankly, unnerving gaze that bore into him.

‘Fuck man, that sucks,’ he said. It was so...nonchalant, nothing like Max’s reaction. There was almost humour behind it. ‘What happened after that?’ Sighing, Ian continued.

‘I hadn’t been keeping up with my rent because I was barely making enough from my job to support myself with food and shit like that so landlord evicted me. Simple as that.’ George nodded and reached for the packet of cigarettes on the coffee table, fishing in his joggers for his lighter.

‘Then I lost my job,’ Ian muttered. Finally, he looked up at George.

‘Shit Ian, you’ve really not been able to catch a fucking break, have you?’ he chuckled. Ian hummed, not having the fucking energy to argue with George’s tone of voice.

‘Well,’ George began, puffing out cigarette smoke in the direction of the air vent, ‘I mean, at least you’re not dead.’ Ian stared at him and sighed.

‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘At least I’m not dead.’


End file.
